


The Butterfly Dress (Markus/Simon)

by e_n_silvermane



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, Domestic Fluff, M/M, in a good-ending world, insecurity on simon's part, low key gender stereotyping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 07:44:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17279906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_n_silvermane/pseuds/e_n_silvermane
Summary: Simon has always felt a little bit uncomfortable in his usual clothing, but upon seeing a beautiful green dress, he realizes something that frightens him.





	The Butterfly Dress (Markus/Simon)

**Author's Note:**

> If insecurity about clothing/gender identity is something that either triggers you or you would rather not read about, there are plenty of other Markus/Simon works out there! And if you are going to read this one, please comment and tell me what I can work on :)

More often than not, Simon felt relatively uncomfortable in clothes.  
No, wait, that sounded wrong.  
He wasn’t an exhibitionist or anything like that—he certainly liked wearing clothes—but couldn’t seem to settle on a style.  
He didn’t like short-sleeved shirts, especially not cap-sleeved. He didn’t like jeans much, either, but they were tolerable. God forbid he wear anything like cargo shorts. Formal shirts and pants and jackets were okay, but rather...starchy. Stiff. Not great for everyday use.  
Sweaters were alright. North had some really pretty ones that she would lend him, things like cardigans, and maybe a turtleneck here and there. Very soft and cute, and although he liked them, he didn’t wear them often, afraid that he would be pegged as “too feminine”.  
So Simon couldn’t really settle in an outfit. Either it made his skin crawl with how uncomfortable his image in the mirror was to look at, or it made for an anxiety-riddled day, constantly worrying about how other people saw him.  
He was in one of those predicaments now. Not exactly helpful, either, as he also in the middle of a department store, fetching a few things for himself and Markus. Oh, and for Alice—her birthday was coming up and since Kara and Simon and Alice were all such good friends, he decided he had better get her a birthday present. Hopefully she liked face paint, and if she didn’t, well...ah, who was he kidding? Simon would go right back to the store and get her something she did like.  
There he was, going through aisle after aisle, searching tiredly for a nice-looking suit jacket that would go with what Markus planned to wear to the conference in a few weeks, sighing about the unnecessarily heavy jeans he had had to wear because he was out of leggings. Some days he would forget about what he was wearing as soon as he walked out the door. Not today, though, no. Today had to be the day that his mind lamented over the loss of his pretty coral orange pajamas. Today just had to be the day where he was itching to wear something, anything, other than whatever awkwardly masculine clothes he had in his closet.  
Today was also the day that something caught his eye. Something he was thrilled to see, excited to try on, until he noticed how long it was, how flowy, how surrounded by other pink, purple, and red fabrics it was.  
The thing that had caught Simon’s attention was a pastel green dress.  
It was a very simple-looking thing—fell like a sheet over the hanger, light and airy, with a thin carnation-pink ribbon around the waist—but he could just imagine how soft to the touch it would be, and how fun it would be to wear, to spin around in.  
Simon shook his head, trying to clear away the thoughts that were now bombarding his mind with ideas of how maybe, maybe this was the thing he could feel nice in, could feel like he belonged in. Maybe this was the thing he could put on, look in the mirror, and love.  
“Nope, nope, nope,” Simon muttered to himself, finally deciding on a jacket and hanging it carefully on the handlebar of the shopping cart.  
And five minutes later he had the dress in hand, practically dashing for the cover of the fitting room from prying eyes (that were, to be honest, nowhere in sight).  
The girl at the desk of the fitting rooms glanced at him, noticed the dress, and thankfully didn’t say anything but “there’s a room open at the end for you”. He nodded shyly in her direction and ducked into the little room, shutting the door behind him and letting go of a breath he barely realized he’d been holding.  
“What am I doing?” He asked quietly, looking down at the dress as his brow furrowed in anxiousness.  
No matter how nervous he was about the dress, he was right when he imagined how soft it was. Gosh, the fabric just fell so perfectly. It was light enough that he didn’t feel confined to a certain shape, and still boxy enough to be considered a little less feminine. The ribbon, tied in a little silky bow, rested on the small of his back, and the straps held up well, despite being thinner than his little finger. And he was right when he had thought of how, maybe, maybe, maybe he could finally look into a mirror and be happy with his image.  
For a long, long time, he stood with his back to the mirror, too afraid to turn. What if he didn’t like it? Would that be the end of all hope? Would he be doomed to feel awkward in everything he wore? On the other hand, what if he loved it? He couldn’t just bring it home, though, surely Markus would have questions. Simon wasn’t ready for that, wasn’t positive that Markus would like the idea of his significant other wearing… well, wearing women’s clothing. He stood there quite a while, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying not to clutch onto the sheer fabric that overlaid the satin dress. At one point, he began to tear up, almost sure he would hate what he saw.  
But he bit the bullet and whirled around to meet his reflection’s gaze, and holy Ra9, did Simon love it.  
The soft green was a near perfect match for his eyes, he found. It was certainly a flattering shape. Very gentle, very tall, very elegant, but still playful. A sundress, most likely—he hadn’t looked too closely at the tag, but that was probably the style the makers were going for.  
The best part were the faint little butterflies, orchid purple and captured mid-flight in the print of the satin. Simon liked the dress already, to be sure, but that little detail was what made him love it. It made him seem so dainty, pretty, carefree.  
If only he could really be like that.  
As much as he dearly loved that dress and how it looked on him, he was also frightened. If he liked it this much, that meant he would probably only ever feel comfortable in clothing like it, which meant being overtly feminine, which meant stares, which meant attention, which meant confusion, which meant judgment. Absolutely terrifying. Nope, nope, nope, he couldn’t, he couldn’t do that, he wouldn’t, absolutely not. No standing out in a crowd, no being labeled as a funny-looking all-odd drag queen by watchful eyes. No, he couldn’t do it.  
It was pretty, though…  
No. No no no, and that was final.  
Simon sat for a while after that, appreciating the dress while he got to wear it, twirling around and trying to hold back tears because maybe he’d never get to be so happy in something he wore ever again. He spent a good ten minutes wishing that society were different, that they would be more willing to accept something as insignificant as the case of someone wearing what they felt comfortable in—but in the end, he knew nothing had changed. Simon got dressed in his heavy jeans and plain red shirt again, and brought the butterfly dress back outside.  
The girl had her chair kicked back, and her feet were up on the desk as she fiddled absentmindedly with a set of keys, reading something on her phone. Once she noticed him standing there, wondering silently if he should put the dress back on the rack, she looked up.  
“Aw, hey! You like it? I sure hope so, a lot of our customers really like that line.”  
“Huh?” Poor thing, he looked so scared. “Oh, um...uh, well, no, I…”  
“It’s okay, hon, go ahead and put it there.” She gestured to a rack on wheels next to her that was stuffed with things people had tossed on it. “Shame, though, I bet it would’ve looked dazzling on you.”  
“Oh, uh, thank you.” He mumbled to her, quickly hanging the dress on the metal bar and shuffling off to find his cart again.  
All the way home, Simon couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. Not just the dress, either, the girl—the employee—the one who said “I bet it would’ve looked dazzling on you.” It did, Simon thought to himself miserably. It really did, but I couldn’t get it. I couldn’t.  
All throughout the rest of the afternoon, through several housekeeping chores and menial tasks like making phone calls and answering emails, he had to remind himself of that. He couldn’t have gotten that dress, no. Markus wouldn’t have liked it. Well, maybe Markus wouldn’t have liked it. Simon had to admit that his fiance was really understanding when it came to personal issues and such, so there was a slight possibility that he wouldn’t have minded considerably. But certainly others would have found it odd. He didn’t think he could stand getting sideways looks from people on the street, or in the stores, or even in the conference rooms. Simon was anything but carefree, sadly.  
It bothered him so much that when Markus arrived home a little later than usual, he didn’t notice, didn’t come to the door for a hug and a kiss. Instead, he was staring in the mirror, trying to picture the dress again, trying to recall how happy and free it felt to wear it. The reflection there, though, wasn’t him—it couldn’t be him, he knew he had had a glimpse of his true self when he whirled around and looked in that fitting room at the green and purple and pink that decorated, defined him so nicely.  
He was stuck on that dress and he knew it. He detested his ‘men’s clothing’, and he knew it.  
“Sweetheart?” Simon startled and turned to face the doorway, where his lover was standing with a look of concern.  
There was a moment of silence between them before Markus asked, “What’s wrong?”  
Whatever he might have been expecting was evidently put to shame as Simon burst out in tears and hugged himself so tight you might’ve thought that he’d been wounded. Markus quickly stepped forward and brought Simon close, resting his chin on soft blonde hair.  
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”  
Simon only cried harder. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”  
“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” reassurances fell from Markus’s lips as he patted his sweetheart’s back and hoped to Ra9 that Simon was going to be alright. Not knowing what exactly was wrong was upsetting, to be sure, but he was worried for Simon’s safety. Thirium pump still working? Circuits all stable? But mostly, he figured something had to have happened at the store or in the street. Some people were still distastefully nasty to androids, and with his precious darling being a PL600 model, he knew that they were more susceptible to both praise and reprimands.  
When Simon had calmed down a bit, he asked,  
“Whose fault is it? I’ll be happy to have their face become acquainted with a nice big brick.”  
“You wouldn’t,” Simon murmured into his fiance’s collar.  
“Well, maybe not, if you really insist that I shouldn’t.” Markus smiled wistfully and kissed Simon’s temple. “Do you want to tell me?”  
The blond android buried his face further into Markus’s jacket and mumbled, “It’s stupid.”  
“Simon, you’re crying, which you hardly ever do, even when people spit at you some of the most insensitive things I’ve ever heard. I promise that whatever has got you like this isn’t stupid.”  
Even though Markus tried his best to convince Simon his feelings were important, it took a long time before Simon was finally ready to speak.  
“I was at the store,” He took a shuddering breath that he remembered he didn’t need.  
Markus nodded patiently.  
“And I saw this dress, and I don’t know, I just…” Simon hugged himself tightly once more. “I thought maybe I’d...I thought it’d be something I could finally, finally feel good about myself in…”  
“Oh, baby…” Simon pretended he couldn’t hear the sorrow and the worry in his sweetheart’s voice. He didn’t want to start crying again.  
“It was really pretty,” He went on. “Green, and all flowy, like a sundress. And it had these cute little butterflies on it.”  
“I bet you looked stunning,” Markus said gently with a smile, and Simon melted inside, lip wobbling at how forgiving he was being.  
“I did, or, or at least, I felt stunning,” He managed to get out without sobbing. “For the first time, really, I felt nice, normal—pretty, even—but I got scared.” His voice fell into a hushed tone. “I didn’t know what you would think if I came home with a...with women’s clothing. I still don’t. And, and you can think whatever like, I just don’t want you to hate me.” Tears were flowing freely at this point, from both Simon’s and Markus’s eyes. “Please don’t hate me.”  
“I could never, ever hate you.” Markus’s voice was laden with sadness as he softly pulled Simon’s hands away from his face. “Don’t feel like you have to hide, darling. You are who you are. I love who you are.” He pressed his forehead against Simon’s and closed his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to be anyone else.”  
And it was then that Simon was reminded why he was marrying this man: Markus knew exactly what Simon needed him to say, and said it. He was a careful, quiet, loving support, a shoulder to lean on and a beautiful soul and a natural leader. How Simon got so lucky, he would never know for sure, but he would enjoy their love for all it was.  
“I love you, Markus,” he managed through tears. “I love you so much.”  
“I love you too, Simon.”

~

Strangely enough, Markus was right. A good night’s sleep did make Simon feel better, even though he really couldn’t get tired. Waking up to the late morning sunshine floating lazily through the curtains was lovely, delightfully peaceful, but it would have been better if Markus had still been beside him in the bed, perhaps curled up in the yellow quilt they shared.  
Speak of the devil, he shall appear—or, in this case, Simon thought, speak of an angel—Markus peeked into the bedroom from the doorway. “You awake, darling?”  
“Yes,” Simon smiled softly. “I know we’ve got a big day ahead of us, but maybe you can come back to bed and snuggle with me?” He held out his arms for emphasis.  
Markus chuckled. “Alright, I will. But first…” And with a flourish, he brought a bag out from behind his back and strode forward to give it to Simon.  
“What’s this?” Simon’s brow furrowed in curiosity as he peered inside the bag. His eyes widened. “You didn’t!”  
“I did!”  
Simon pulled a familiar green dress out of the bag, looked at it, looked at Markus, looked back at the dress, and then to Markus again, and with a happy cry leaped forward to pull him into a tight hug.  
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”  
“Don’t worry about it, darling, it was the least I could do.” Markus pressed feather-light kisses to Simon’s face. “We’ll see about getting you more things you like later today, okay?”  
Simon beamed happily and pulled Markus into a sweet kiss, mumbling his “I love you”s into his fiance’s lips.  
So it was that that dress was the start of something truly memorable. Simon couldn’t wait to wear it and feel untroubled, pretty—  
And loved. Always loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
